For her alone
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: Can't say much, but deals with a romance between Ian and an OC. If I say more, I'll give away the plot! Please read and review, please! I've added a little postscript to the end. Please review!rnIt's done! Finally done!
1. Default Chapter

_Celebwen Telcontar_: Well, this is new. A National Treasure fanfic. 

_Balrog_: Yah? So? (Goes back to eating sundae) 

_Celebwen Telcontar_: Don't be such a party pooper. 

_Balrog_: Whaddyoumean? 

_Celebwen Telcontar_: Never mind. I own Martha and her family, but no one else. I also own the Crystal Rose and the plot. To the story now!

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Martha hunkered into her coat as she trotted through the London streets, her hood pulled up to ward off the pounding rain. She looked up as she saw a toyshop, and laughed to herself. She went in to find something for her niece, and wandered the aisles.

"May I help you with something?" a voice asked.

"No thank you. I know my way around here well enough." She knew the voice that answered. Ian Howe. It was her boyfriend in her foreign exchange year here.

"Ian! I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" she called, walking over.

"Martha! I've been good. And you?"

"Well enough. I've missed you."

"And I you. You don't know how hard it's been…" He swept her into a warm embrace, which she eagerly returned, and he kissed her cheek. She could feel the old attraction returning. "Would you like to go to dinner tonight?" he asked. She smiled.

"I can't. My sister's birthday is tonight, and I still have to find her a gift."

"So that's why you're here."

"No. This is for my niece."

"I see. I'll help you look."

"Thanks, Ian." She snaked an arm about his waist, and he pulled her closer to him. She could smell his cologne from her angle, and liked it. She leaned her head on his arm, and they found something that Moira would like. Then, they went up and she paid for it, and they went out into the torrential London rain together.

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"Hey, Martha, Ian, have some cake!" Mary handed both of them some of her birthday cake, and Moira ran up, waving her new stuffed elephant. "Didn't I tell you? We're celebrating Christmas early this year, to make up for the fact that you'll be in Washington next year. And you two are under the mistletoe, by the way." Obligingly, the couple handed their cakes to a passerby, and Ian gathered Martha up into his arms, giving her a passionate kiss. She kissed right back, and they separated to cheers rather sadly. They took back their cake, but their minds were still on that mind-blowing kiss they had shared. They stayed together for the entire duration of the party. She was positive now that she was still in love with him.

"Okay! Time for gifts!" Elizabeth, Martha's mother, called. She handed the first gift, from both Ian and Martha, to Mary. The woman ripped open the packaging, and all ooed and ahhed at the five spoons for Mary's collection.

"Mummy! Look, spoons!" Moira cried, holding up one with Elvish on the handle.

"Yes, I see! Now, what has mummy told you about her spoons, Moira?"

"Don't touch."

"That's right, honey. Thank you, Martha, Ian." She ripped open the next gift, and displayed a photo album. Kevin, Mary's husband, smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. Martha leaned into Ian, and they stayed that way for most of the rest of the party. At the end, her favorite part of any family gathering came when Kevin found his tambourine, Mary got her violin, and Martha found her guitar.

"Even though Mother and Daddy couldn't be here as they are spending the night with John, who's gone into relapse, we are still singing the family song. Moira, you remember it, don't you?"

"Yes, Aunt Martha."

"Good. Alright, come and sing! Anyone who knows the words is welcome to sing along.

"_To everything (Turn turn turn) there is a season (turn turn turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven. _

_A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap_

_A time to kill, a time to heal; a time to laugh, a time to weep_

"_To everything (Turn turn turn) there is a season (turn turn turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven._

_A time to build up, a time to break down; a time to dance, a time to mourn_

_A time to cast away stones; a time to gather stones together_

"_To everything (Turn turn turn) there is a season (turn turn turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven. _

_A time to love, a time of hate; a time of war, a time of peace_

_A time that you may embrace; a time to refrain from embracing _

As Martha and Kevin played the instrumental part, Mary wove the violin in and out of the melody. It added something that she could never pinpoint, but always loved to hear that wasn't in the original Byrds version of the song. Ian's voice was a welcome addition to the song; he hit all the right notes, and made her feel warm as his separate part opened new portions of the song to her.

"_To everything (Turn turn turn) there is a season (turn turn turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven._

_A time to gain, a time to loose; a time to rend, a time to sew_

_A time for love, a time for hate; a time for peace I swear it's not too late."_

Tears sprang to Martha's eyes as she finished the song with a guitar solo. That song was always so poignant to any family gathering, as so many of her family members had succumbed to cancer of one form or another, and she believed the song to be extremely relevant to the family.

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"What do you say to going to dinner tomorrow night?" Ian asked on the doorstep. She smiled and nodded.

"I'd like that."

"Alright. Say five thirty? Dress nice," he whispered. She smiled and he kissed her. Martha went back inside after he began to walk off to hail a taxi.

"You like him, don't you?" Mary called.

"If you must know, I do. He was my boyfriend in the one year I was over here for foreign exchange. I ran into him while getting Moira that elephant."

"He sang well tonight. I wouldn't' mind him being a permanent addition to the ensemble, plus that he's nice. It'd be good for you to settle down with a husband. Perhaps him."

"Mary, I don't need you to play Matchmaker with me."

"Well, I still think you belong with someone, even if you can't have children."

"I've thought of adopting, but I never got around to it."

"You need a husband first, you know. You can't raise a child with only yourself."

"Mother did, until shemarried Dad."

"That's beside the point. You need a husband, and if I can help Ian to become him, then I will. I want to see my big sister walk down the aisle."

"Forget it, Mary. I will marry at my own leisure, if I do get married."

"It'll be good for you, Martha." Mary left with that note, and picked Moira up to take her to bed. "You've been up way too late, little missy."

"Mummy, is Aunt Martha going to marry that man?"

"We'll see, Moira, we'll see."

"Great! Even my niece is in on it! Will you just leave well enough alone?" Martha laughed. Mary shot her a look she couldn't decipher, and Martha went upstairs to get ready for bed.

The bedcovers looked warm and inviting as Martha slipped beneath them. She found herself thinking about Ian, and how Mary was being a matchmaker.

AN: This is a debate between Martha and her conscience. …> Martha, …>> Conscience 

_Would it really be so bad, to be married to Ian?>>_

_I haven't seen him in over five years. He has changed.>_

_He's a good man.>>_

_True, but still… I don't know him anymore. It's like Ben.>_

_But you don't have feelings for Ben, now do you?>>_

_Imay haveat one time.>_

_But not anymore.>>_

_You're right. Maybe I should get back into the swing of dating. He's a good person.>_

_And he'll take care of you. You know that much, to say the least.>>_

_What about the hysterectomy?>_

_When you were ten? What if he doesn't want children?>>_

_And what if he does?>_

_Leave tomorrow for what comes. Try to have a good time to say the least. You deserve it. And your sister is right. You do need someone to lean on. He loves you, you know. His feelings never diminished, like you thought yours did.>>_

_And they didn't?>_

_I don't think so. And I doubt if I've ever been wrong. Go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning, and you'll see that I'm right.>>_

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Martha took her conscience's advice, and snuggled deeper into the blankets, and soon was sleeping soundly. Her dreams were anything but sound, though.

_Martha walked through a large house, and something felt right in the place. Then, she looked down, and saw a wedding ring. She looked about, trying to find her husband, and saw Ian walk in, carrying a bunch of papers. On his left ring finger was the match to her ring. _

"_Here are the drawings you were working on. The dragon pendant looks good, but I would suggest a little lengthening of the tail, since the neck is longer than the body. The wings look good folded against the body like that."_

"_Thanks for your advice. What do you think for the eyes? Rubies, sapphires, or emeralds?"_

"_The body is studded with diamonds for scales, right? The emeralds will give off a slight glow, but I think the rubies would do better. They'd make it look alive."_

"_You're right. They would. Thanks."_

"_You're sister's coming over on Wednesday for dinner, she just called. I couldn't get her to say no!"_

"_She's always been strong-willed." _Slowly, the dream faded, and Martha awoke to see that the time was seven in the morning. She got up, and began the day.

At five fifteen in the evening, Martha was ready to go. She had on one of her sister's dresses, and wore a good pair of earrings. She sat in the fluffy chair, and Mary took one look at her.

"You're going on a date? Who is he?"

"The Easter bunny." Martha said sarcastically.

"Really? I thought he would be dating some doe rabbit. I didn't know he dated humans."

"Mary, you're too gullible. I'm going out with Ian. You met him last night."

"Great! You're taking my advice!"

"Don't push your luck, Mary. I went out with Ben Gates in the tenth grade because you set us up. The date flopped, and I never want to see that happen again if I can help it."

"Ben Gates? Who was he?"

"Fairly short, brown hair, obsessed with some treasure or other? Remember? He was the guy who looked at money in his spare time. The geek."

"Ha! I remember him now!" Good God. I'm sorry it flopped."

"Hey, he took me home and let me look at some old papers in some desk or other, said they were written by Benjamin Franklin as some widow!"

"Ha! What a geek! Here Ian is now! I see him coming up the drive!" Martha heard a door close, and then the doorbell ring. She opened the door to see Ian there, in a tuxedo, with a rose in one hand.

"Martha. You look beautiful. Here, this is for you." He handed her the rose, and she smiled.

"I'll be back in a moment. Come on in." He entered, and Martha went to put the rose in water. When she returned, Mary was talking to Ian about the virtues of tying oneself down to a person.

"Well, it makes for a good life. You know you always have someone there for you in any event. You know just how much you love the person, and so it makes it a good decision to get married."

"Mary! Stop pestering Ian!" Martha said, her voice stern.

"Why? He looks like he wants to be pestered."

"Mary, don't even start."

"Well, shall we be going?" He offered her his arm, and she took it, then they went out to the car. He opened the door for her, and then got in on the other side.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"The Crystal Rose."

"Oh, my." She settled back, and felt the car begin to move.

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Martha laughed as Ian recounted a rather amusing anecdote involving one of her school friends. Then, they began to talk over what would happen to them when Martha returned home.

"I just found you, Martha. I don't want to loose you again. I have been having a wonderful time here with you."

"As have I. I have loved your company…"

"Just my company?" he teased.

"And your charm, wit, personality… what I'm trying to say is that I… I think I've fallen in love with you."

"And I with you. I know I have." He took a light drink from his glass of champagne, and resumed speaking. "I have been in love with you since you left me at the airport. I loved you when you wrote letters to me, and when I received an e-mail telling me of your exploits. I remember you telling me about Mary and the disastrous date with Benjamin Gates, and of the drawing contest you won. I…I'll take you to the airport and help you with your luggage."

"Thanks." Martha smiled and finished off her dinner, and the waiter came with the bill; Ian helped her into her coat, and they left the restaurant, Martha's head swimming with the new information.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

"You know my e-mail address. I'll give you my regular address as well so that you can send me snail mail as well."

"I'll get a piece of paper in the car." They soon left the restaurant, and Martha, used to American cars, got on the driver's side of the car. "You're going to drive? I thought it was the men who drove the women," he joked. She blushed and then walked to the passenger's side. He gave her a swift kiss then got in the driver's side and fished around to find a pencil and paper. He wrote down his address and phone number, as well as the England extension. Martha did the same, and they exchanged addresses and numbers.

"Here, call me at a decent time. Jason called me at one thirty in the morning after I returned to the states. But don't stay up until all hours of the night either. I want to talk to you, and I want you to be able to talk to me and not fall asleep on the receiver."

"I will. I'll make sure not to fall asleep on the phone with you." He laughed, and then placed a hand on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and reached for him as he came nearer. Their lips met in a fiery passion, and she snaked her arms around him.

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"I hate to go," she whispered, as he brushed a lock of her jet-black hair from her eyes. He moved foreword and gently kissed her. She let the kiss linger as long as she could, but soon she had to break away when she had to go onto her flight.

"I wish you could stay," he murmured into her hair before kissing the shell of her ear and wiping away one of her tears. "I love you, and I always will," he breathed into her ear.

"And I you," she replied quietly. He handed her the carryon bag she would be bringing, and handed her a small novel.

"The Unfinished Tales. I knew you didn't have that one, and that you wanted it. It will give you something to keep you busy on the long trip." She wiped away one of his tears and boarded after giving him a gentle goodbye kiss.

As the plane left, she watched for him to leave the port, but he was too small to see, and a tear spilled from her already wet eye as she felt the plane pick up speed and climb into the air.

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_Celebwen Telcontar_: Well, how did you like it? Romance and angst. What a combination.

_Balrog_: I hated it. It's a rather disgusting thing, you know. Not enough action.

_Celebwen Telcontar_: No action, you mean. Well, it'll get there, I think. Maybe I'll keep it to a Romance/Angst fanfic. I hope no one throws things at me again. Well, that's that. The first chapter of my story is finished. 

_Balrog_: Ugh… I think I'm going to be sick…

_Celebwen Telcontar:_ It's not that bad, is it? Or… What's that sundae you're eating made of?

_Balrog:_ Limestone, marble and calcite.

_Celebwen Telcontar: _Will you never learn? You shouldn't eat that stuff! It gives you heartburn and indigestion! Well, until next time, folks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Celebwen Telcontar:** Well, this is my newest installment in my National Treasure fic. It will explain a bit about the song and why they sing it. I hope you like it.

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The harsh electric light caused the young woman to squint against her paper as she made the last few lines around the eye of the dragon. She then looked at the bird's eye view of the beast, and marked in the short, stiff hairs used for the mane and a few over the eyes for eyelashes. The eyeholes were left purposefully open for a pair of rubies to fill after the beast was created. She quickly pulled a couple of veins over the wings, and put a slight leathery texture on the wings. Each scale was meticulously drawn in, the shading for the texture making it seem to jump off of the page. She put in the loop for the chain on the wings, making it look like part of the uplifting wings that connected to form a loop for the chain to pass through. She passed the paper to Joseph, her employee, who immediately set out to make the lost-wax model before casting it.

"Your birthday is in a few days, right?" Joseph asked, filing the lost-wax block to roughly the same shape overall as the dragon was.

"Next week."

"How're you celebrating it?"

"I don't know. A few friends, not much else. My sister, a couple close friends, and my high school sweetheart, but that's about it."

"Ben's going to be there?"

"No. My sweetheart from England, not that obsessed-with-treasure blockhead. I only went out with Ben because Mary set us up."

"Your little sister set a date for you?"

"And I knew she thought I hung the moon, so how could I refuse?"

"I don't suppose you could. She is a beautiful woman, much like you."

"Stop flirting."

"But I'm not flirting!"

"As a matter of fact you are. And I don't appreciate it." Martha grabbed another sheet of paper and began to draw a cat sniffing the ground, whiskers extended and ears pricked. She shaded in the individual hairs, bringing the tail down to almost brush the ground before sweeping up again.

"Well, I suppose I ought to wish you a happy birthday."

"A birthday is just another day, only one where I grow a year older. A year closer to having wrinkles and white hair."

"Don't think like that!"

"And why not? It's true."

"You're too much of a cynic."

"Stop it." Martha crumbled the cat up and tossed it in the waste-paper basket, then grabbed another sheet of paper and began to draw a grand bell. On the side, she sketched in an inscription that would be raised in relief. She finished it off with a massive crack on one side, and with the impression that it should be able to ring, even with the crack.

"You want me to cast a miniature of the Liberty Bell? I don't know if I'm that talented. Pass and Stow were, but that's beside the point."

"Pass and Stow are dead. You'll have to do."

"Great. Next you'll have me do a representation of the Declaration of Independence."

"You know, that might not be such a bad idea."

"I can't do things parchment thin!"

"I was just joking!"

"Like you ever joke." He kept filing away the belly of the dragon she had set him to, and cursed as he came too close to the wing joint.

"Don't mess up. Or you'll have to start all over."

"Shush." Joseph filed around the legs and tail before going to work of the still rather blocky neck and the head.

"Well, I expect those two castings done when I come in next on Wednesday, and I'll have some new drawings for you to work on."

"What are they going to be?"

"I don't know. Maybe the Old North Church."

"Complete with three horseback riders, I presume?" Joseph asked. He sounded slightly depressed, because he knew his skills weren't that good.

"No. Just the church. Maybe Liberty Hall, as well."

"To scale with the Bell?"

"No. Smaller. If it was to scale to the Liberty Bell, the Hall would be ten feet high. I don't think you have a lost-wax block that big."

"You're right. I don't. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joseph." Martha went outside with her light jacket on to ward off the wind, bearing some pencils and a ream of paper. She got to her car, opened it and put in the supplies before fishing for her cell phone and calling Ian.

"_Martha! How are you?" _he asked.

"I'm good. What's your flight and when does it come in? I'll pick you up."

"_Frontier Airlines, flight 10. It comes in at Gate G in theSeattle International Airport. Five pm, your time. I'm coming day after tomorrow."_

"Good. I'll see you there. I love you."

"_I love you too, Martha."_

"Hey, there's a Baroque concert a week after the party. Do you want to stay to go there with me?"

"_Sure. Sounds great. I'll be there."_

"Good. See you in two days."

"_See you. I love you."_

"You too. Bye."

"_Bye."_ She heard the telltale click as he put the phone in the cradle, and she turned off the cell phone.

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Mary hit the switch for the electric mixer and slowly mixed in the egg mixture, the cake mix quickly becoming as it should look. She greased the back and sides of the pair of eight-inch aluminum round cake pans, and then flipped the speed from low to medium. She then noticed that she had forgotten to preheat the oven. As she was doing that, she remembered that she had forgotten to add the half-cup vegetable oil. She quickly added the oil, then let the mixer beat for another two minutes and began to make the frosting. The oven beeped to say that it was preheated to 350°, and she poured the cake mix into the pans.

"Let me take over, dear. You know you can't make a cake to save your life," her mother said, finishing the frosting.

"It was interesting to see how much she has learned about the art of cake making," Martha commented.

"Yes, I know, Martha. But Mother is better at making cakes than me."

"I decorate cakes, Mary. But I can make cakes from a recipe well enough. Now, Martha, why don't you go and help that nice boyfriend of yours settle in? He's going to stay here the week and go to the Handel concert, isn't he?"

"Yes, Ian is going to go see the concert with us."

"Will you have an extra guest room? I could use a place to put the unwrapped presents," Mary said innocently. It didn't fool Martha a bit.

"If you and Mother move into one room. I don't have a spare guest room otherwise."

"But I thought you and your boyfriend are going to use one room," Mary replied.

"Mary Rachel Morenci!" Elizabeth barked. Martha blushed, her eyes flashing, and Mary had the grace to look properly chastised, then she went out, muttering about getting the presents properly wrapped. Martha went out to the car to go to the airport to get Ian.

She cleared out her car, putting the emergency stuff in the trunk, saving as much space as she could. Then, she got into the car and drove off.

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Ian stepped off the plane's walkway, and immediately saw Martha standing there, waving to him. He walked over and kissed her gently, before smiling at her and she led him to the luggage retrieval.

"How was your trip?" she asked.

"It was well enough. I've missed you, Martha." He stroked her black hair and brushed his fingers against her cheek. "You're just as beautiful as always..." He trailed off, and she smiled at him.

"I've missed you too." He slung an arm around her shoulders and held her close to him, while she thought about how she would like to stay with him for the rest of her life. As her conscience had said last year, she didn't think marrying him would be a bad idea at all. She knew what she would say if he ever asked her. "Come on. Let's go to lunch. I know a nice place where we can get some good food."

She led the way to her car, towing his wheeled suitcase.

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As she finished off her lunch, he paid the bill, to her protests, and they stood. She led the way to a beautiful lake, where a gaggle of geese were diving and fishing for breadcrumbs as passerby tossed them into the lake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ian get something out of his pocket, and he turned to her, looking around. The audience they had was rather distracted, and he took her hand.

"Martha, I love you. I couldn't imagine a life without you in it. I...will...would you do me the honor of being my wife?" he asked quickly. Her eyes went wide as he displayed a beautiful ring of white gold with a fair sized diamond in the middle. She smiled and kissed him, putting the ring on her finger.

"Of course I will, Ian! I love you...I love you so much..." She trailed off as he kissed her, then picked her up and spun her around in his joy.

Applause reached their ears and the passerbies of the park were all looking at them, clapping, and smiling. Martha smiled and kissed her fiancé once more before they left for the car.

He opened the door for her, kissing her joyfully. The car phone jangled, and Martha picked it up.

"Hello?"

"_Martha! Where on earth are you?! Lunch is getting stone cold!"_

"I had lunch with Ian, Mary."

"_You what?! Igo and makea special lunch for you, and you stand me up by going to lunch with Ian. He had better have taken care of you. And can I move my stuff into the _spare_ guest room?"_

"Maybe. I'll tell you once we return."

"_Where in the name of Creation did you go? Mother is having a litter of kittens with worry, and the guests are all milling about here aimlessly!"_

"Then I should have known about the guests and the lunch beforehand, shouldn't I have?"

"_Alright. Come back here as soon as possible."_

"Alright, alright!" She hung up and they got into the car. "Apparently my sister had made a good lunch for us and had some sort of surprise party."

"Then we'll just have to give her a surprise too, shall we?"

"Yes, we will." She kissed him and put the keys into the ignition, and started the car before driving to her home.

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"Mother, Mary, We're back!" Martha was grinning broadly as her mother and sister barreled over.

"What kept you?" Mary barked. Then, she saw the ring. "Oh my word! Martha! You took my advice! You're getting married!"

"That's right. I am marrying Ian."

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" Elizabeth gushed, hugging her daughter. "Welcome to the family, Ian. I've heard a lot about you, and hope that all the good things are true." Her father came over, and held out a massive hand to Ian.

"Welcome to the family, Ian. If you ever hurt our little Martha in any way, I'll have to hunt you down and decapitate you, you know. Well, now that that pleasant business is over, what do you say to some partying?" Zechariahs Chandler's sheer size seemed to overwhelm Ian for a moment. He was a black-haired behemoth of a man, about six foot six, and would tip the scales at two-seventy-five, all of it muscle. He looked like he could have made a professional quarterback no problem.

"Indeed, Mr. Chandler. And never fear, your axe will grow dull and rust off the handle before you can use it," Ian said. Zechariahs laughed heartily.

"I should hope so, son. And you are to call us Mother and Dad as you are in the family now. Martha, Lillian called, and John's in remission."

"He is? That's wonderful! I can't wait to see him!"

"He is doing better than he was."

"Thank the Lord that he's still with us."

"Amen. I'm glad he pulled through."

"Speaking of John, I haven't heard from Uncle Rick in a long time. How is he?" Mary asked. The group's faces went sad.

"Rick succumbed to the leukemia six months ago," Elizabeth answered.

"Son, before you ask, cancer runs in our blood. My brother died not too long ago, and my son, John, was just put into remission, which means that he can return to a semi-normal life, taking regular blood tests, and taking a whole slue of medications."

"Oh. I...I'm sorry. It seems a dim thing to say now, but...I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"Nor would any of us. I come from a cancer-riddled family, Ian. What can I say?"

"You can't. I'll just have to adjust to the illness. But I would do that in a heartbeat to stay with you."

"So would I, if I had to." Martha leaned into her fiancé, and Zechariahs ordered them into the kitchen to have some cake to clear up the black mood. Then, the doorbell chimed, and Elizabeth got up to get the door.

"John! Lillian! You could come! Oh, John, you look so much better!"

"Mother, don't say that, I know better. I look like a concentration camp victim."

"Considering that last time I saw you, you were attached to so many machines and in an oxygen tent, I'd say that you do look better."

"Mother..."

"Mother, I think we should take our gifts in..."

"Oh, Lillian, I should tell you, Martha has a surprise for you!"

"Oh, she does, does she? Well, she should keep it to herself since it is _her_ birthday."

"Oh, Lillian, don't be so pessimistic! I'm getting married, that's all."

"That's _all?!_ Martha, we need to help you with the planning, then! Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I've told you about him. It's Ian Howe."

"Oh! Your British boyfriend! Of course! I almost forgot! I thought it would be Ben!"

"I see."

"Well, younglings, shall we begin the party? John, you did bring the guitar, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Lillian, as you know, plays the drums, and she brought over a portable set."

"Good. Elizabeth, I'll get the cymbals, and your violin. Mary, you have your violin and Kevin has his tambourine, right?"

"Yes. I'll get them. Oh, by the way, Moira is starting on the guitar as well."

"Ian, do you play any instruments?"

"I play the piano, but that's about it."

"Then we'll get a piano in England and one in the states. When we have a gathering, we'll just go there. You have a piano, right, Martha?"

"Downstairs. It came with the house. I'll go get the music for the song." Martha ran up and began to rifle through her drawers and found a copy of sheet music from when she was learning the song on guitar. She brought it downstairs, the music for guitar but she thought that since it had a piano accompaniment for it, she hoped Ian would be able to read it.

"Okay! Let's go down and sing! Ian, come along!" They tramped down the creaking old stairs to the basement, and it had a large grand piano in one room, in the very center. Large chairs were all around the room, and the family was soon settled in the chairs.

_To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven. _

_A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap_

_A time to kill, a time to heal; a time to laugh, a time to weep_

_To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven._

_A time to build up, a time to break down; a time to dance, a time to mourn_

_A time to cast away stones; a time to gather stones together_

_To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven. _

_A time to love, a time of hate; a time of war, a time of peace_

_A time that you may embrace; a time to refrain from embracing _

"_To everything (Turn, turn, turn) there is a season (Turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose under Heaven._

_A time to gain, a time to loose; a time to rend, a time to sew_

_A time for love, a time for hate; a time for peace I swear it's not too late."_

Ian finished the song with Martha, and the entire family had tears in their eyes. Lillian set down her drumsticks, and Mary and Elizabeth their bows. Moira smiled and set down her training guitar, and Martha leaned gently on Ian's shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. The family was smiling happily, and soon they went up to go open presents.

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**Celebwen Telcontar:** How did you like it? Was it good enough for you?

**Balrog: **Why didn't you make her get canph!

**Celebwen Telcontar: **(Holding hand over Balrog's mouth) I think you've had a little bit too much firewhiskey for today.

**Balrog:** Mubleshmagerumpharula!

**Celebwen Telcontar: **Uhhh…Yes, I'll take that as a compliment. Do you have anymore insightful comments to make at the moment, or can I hand you over to the press for today?

**Balrog:** Motreff! Motreff!!! Motreff, noo shoo fear nee?

**Celebwen Telcontar: **Oh, I'd best remove my hand, hadn't I?

**Balrog:** Reff! Ahhh, that's better! 'no press!' I hate the press, don't you remember? Stupid paparazzi.

**Celebwen Telcontar:** I'll have to reply with my own knowledge soon enough. Well, goodnight fair readers!! Happy reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Celebwen Telcontar: This all belongs to… uhh… something other than me.

Balrog: Zhe fwop bewonv do voo!

Celebwen Telcontar: What? Don't talk with your mouth full!

Balrog: Sorry, the pumice was just turning back to lava in my mouth and throat. I said that the plot belongs to you.

Celebwen Telcontar: So does Martha and all the Chandlers. The Byrds own the song in the last two chapters, though. The song was "Turn, turn, turn" or "To Everything There Is A Season, from some Bible verse or other.

Balrog: Very good. Anyways, can we get back to the story?

Celebwen Telcontar: Yes.

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Martha sat down slowly, her ears ringing.

"It's just the flu; let it be just the flu!" she whispered to herself. The tree was only half decorated, and Martha felt as if she couldn't move a single muscle. Her face felt drained of all blood, and her brain felt a harsh pressure that refused to leave, much like she was going to faint. She had a large bruise on her forearm, and thought that she must have bumped into something, but nothing came to mind. She knew what these were symptoms of, but willed herself to believe they were simply influenza. "But I got my flu shot…" she mumbled to herself. Inwardly, she knew what it was. "Not me, not me too… John, Rick, all of them…" She hung her head.

"Martha, are you alright?" Ian asked, rushing into the room. He pressed his hand to the hinge of her jaw, and came away looking concerned.

"I think it's the flu."

"You've had your flu shot this year!" he semi-roared, mingling between outrage and disbelief. "How long have you had this particular cold, now that I think about it?"

"A few weeks…"

"Shit. You're going to the doctors."

"It's not…"

"I think it is. I hope not, but you never know… It does run in your family, sweetheart." His voice was choked. He seemed to be willing himself to not believe that she had cancer, that she just had the common flu. But everything added up, and he knew in his heart that she was sick.

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As Martha lay in her hospital bed, tubes running from her veins, and a very worried husband sitting beside her, holding her hand, she thought on the unfairness of the world. To take her life away like this, to get her sick with leukemia, was more than she could handle at the moment. Zechariahs stood at the foot of the bed, his massive face lined with emotional pain and tears. He fiddled with a small, well-loved teddy bear, and then handed it to Martha.

"Thought you'd like this, baby. I know how you slept with him until his fur wore off when you were just a little tike."

"Thanks, Dad." He reached over and hugged her. His embrace was as gentle as if she was made of glass, and she felt him trembling beneath the gruff exterior. "You remind me of a Dwarf. Maybe Gimli, or Balin," she said gently.

"Of course. Trust you to bring in something Tolkien related."

"Naturally."

"My little Elfling."

"I'm no Elfling, Dad, and you know it. Elves don't get sick."

"Well, you get better now, or I'll be madder than that Balrog Glorfindel finished off."

"It finished him off, too. Well, sort of."

"Ian, you take care of her."

"Yes, Dad."

"Now, Elizabeth, we should be going."

"Mary will want to see her, Zechariahs,"

"So she will. Later."

The small woman gazed at her daughter, and smiled slightly.

"You get better, you hear?"

"Right, Mother."

"Alright, visiting hours are over."

"I'll visit you tomorrow, love," Ian said quietly, kissing her. Zechariahs smoothed some hair from her forehead, and Elizabeth fiddled with the blankets. As the trio left, all three looking sullen and sad, the nurse came in with the tray of pills and liquid medications. Martha had already vomited due to the chemotherapy, but now was feeling nauseous again, and her strength was waning and waxing at intervals. She managed to swallow the pills and medications, including the new medication called Gleevec, and managed to slowly drift into sleep.

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Ian stared at the blank spot on the wall, Elizabeth's arm around his shoulder for support. Zechariahs had gone to call Mary, and tell her the bad news, while trying his best to stay stoic and not cry. He had seen his own brother die of cancer and his son as well. He didn't want to loose his eldest daughter, too. The telephone rang, and Ian picked it up.

"Hello? Is this Ian Howe? This is Riley, calling you back. You asked about Ben?"

"Er… yes. I did."

"Well, here he is."

"Mr. Howe?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking for a group of people to go into the arctic with me."

"The Arctic?! What is this, some scientific expedition?"

"No. We're trying to find a ship called the USS Charlotte. She disappeared in that area in the late eighteenth century, and I think there's either a clue or the treasure itself."

"Buried treasure? I'll join." Elizabeth and Zechariahs looked at him like he was from Mars.

"Alright! Excellent! I've been having trouble trying to find people to go on this trip with me, but no one save Riley wants to go!"

"I'll get a few people together I know. Where do you want to set out?"

"Say, Boston, Massachusetts; Logan Airport. Three weeks, and I'll meet you there."

"You've got yourself a deal, mate." He hung up the receiver, and was bombarded with questions from his in-laws.

"Did you just say you're going after buried treasure?"

"Anything to help Martha… Anything at all… The medical bills need to be paid, Mother. And they won't be paid by me sitting around."

"But what if it's not real?" Zechariahs asked.

"Don't tell me that! It is real; it has to be real… For Martha's sake… For the family. When I find it, it's all going to cancer research, and to pay for Martha's bills. We need the money, Mother. Don't tell me otherwise. Cancer has depleted this family of its income for long enough. I'll be gone in three weeks."

"But how are you going to pay for the ticket?"

"I have my ways."

"Theft?!"

"I can let just a little money trickle down to make them think I've got big money, then go and find that treasure for Martha!"

"How are you going to keep up the image, Ian?"

"I will, somehow. I have to. Everything resides on this. Without Martha, I'm useless. You know that's true, Dad."

Zechariahs could see a cold, deadly glint in his son-in-law's eyes. Hatred, and disgust marred his handsome face, and his sandy blonde hair was seemingly alive with the power of the absolute loathing Ian had for the disease.

"I'll beat it… somehow, I'll beat it."

"Ian…" Elizabeth began, but then realized that she was no match for this strong malignancy of feelings that was eating her son-in-law up from the inside out. His idea to bluff his way into this treasure hunting party was risky, but it could be done.

"Ian, how are you going to do this?" Zechariahs asked.

"It's like a chess game. I just have to keep his eyes anywhere else but the board and my moves."

"What?"

"I never have liked this Ben chap since I found out about him and met him at the wedding. He always was too preoccupied with his precious treasure. No pun intended."

"So Ben isn't Gollum?" Elizabeth said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Obviously not…" Ian was rather preoccupied with his plan for the moment, and then lifted his cell phone to call some friends he had made over here.

The glint Ian had in his eye scared Zechariahs. He had known people who had that look, and would stop at nothing, literally, to get what they were after. He was convinced that Ian was an entirely different person now, almost like a split personality. Zechariahs was convinced that Ian would stop at nothing, even go so far as to commit theft or cold-blooded murder to get to the treasure and donate it to cancer research.

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Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?

Balrog: Frankly, Ian is beginning to creep me out.

Celebwen Telcontar: Why is that? He's not that bad, just… mad about finding the treasure to help cancer patients.

Balrog: But that glint… It's just as disturbing as Dumbledore's twinkle, only in a different way.

Celebwen Telcontar: What? Ian is not Dumbledore. He looks absolutely nothing like Dumbledore!

Balrog: I was comparing the "twinkle" and the "glint". Neither are pretty, both are quite disturbing, and now I think I'll have nightmares about a twinkling Ian or a glinting Dumbledore.

Celebwen Telcontar: Eat a gypsum and calcite sundae before bed. You'll have too much heartburn to have nightmares!

Balrog: Okay. (Walks off to a rock field.) 

Celebwen Telcontar: Well, see you next time! (Smiles and waves to audience.)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This chapter deals with how Ian manages to deal with the Charlotte incident. it will explain a lot of his actions in the movie as well.**_

_**Balrog: How so?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You'll just have to find out on your own, won't you? By the way, I own nothing, save Martha and the Chandlers. I don't even own the family song; that's either the Byrds or the Bibles. Or both.

* * *

**_

Ian held on as the vehicle bounced and rollicked over the icy landscape. He zipped up his parka a little farther, and kept Martha's face in his mind. Right now, he could hear everything, but was emotionally detached, as if he were watching a video of his own life. He went into his memories of his beautiful Tolkienist of a wife, and time passed without his memory storing it away. The next instant, he was looking at a massive ship imbedded in the ice. The party climbed on the deck, and walked down.

He saw a mummified deck hand, frozen in time, literally, and would have recoiled, but something was keeping him from feeling anything. Like Zechariahs said before he had departed, he seemed to have two personalities, the kind and loving one that was present around Martha, and the sociopath that would stop at nothing created by the cancer. Now his conscious mind was only along for the ride while the sociopath did whatever it wanted to do.

He saw barrels of gunpowder, and someone said that the treasure had to be in one of the barrels. He began methodically ripping them apart, but came up empty handed.

"The Captain was guarding this particular barrel. He had to have a reason..." Ben commented. He pried the dead man's fingers from his musket, and opened the barrel. He tipped it to the side, and found a pipe.

"What is it?" Riley asked. "Is it a... million dollar pipe?" Ian's heart began to pound. Was it a clue? Ben sliced his own finger, and broke the pipe. Riley cried out in disbelief. Ben then smeared the blood on the stem of the pipe, and rolled it on a piece of paper. He muttered for some time then said that the next clue was on the back of the Declaration of Independence. The sociopath within Ian seemed to roar with frustration.

AN: This is an argument between Ian and the sociopath. ... _**sociopath**_, ... Ian

_**Would it really be so hard to get?**_

Of course it would! Do you know just how much is guarding that thing!

_**If you were to use the right methods, it's a walk in the park.**_

And what do you plan to do with it once you get it?

_**Heat activates invisible writing.**_

Use a hair dryer! Where! In a bloody lorry!

_**Use your head, git! In a house, or maybe a warehouse!**_

Git yourself. I couldn't steal the Declaration of Independance! It's just wrong!

_**And letting Martha die because you were too bloody chicken to get the treasure is any better!**_

You bloody bastard!

_**Think about it. No Declaration of Independence, no treasure. No treasure, and the bills don't get paid. Bills don't get paid, and Martha's unplugged. not to mention that the cancer patients of the world don't get that money. People die of cancer left right and center, Ian. Elizabeth and Zechariahs would pull all stops to the cancer, if that meant to steal the Declaration of Independence or the Liberty Bell itself then so be it.**_

You bloody bastard.

_**So?**_

I'll do it.

_**I knew you'd see things my way, if given the right incentive.**_

End of argument

"I can get it." the sociopath said to Ben's lack of faith.

"How?"

"I have my ways." At that moment, Ian's memory failed him.

* * *

He "woke up" in the arctic vehicle, the ship a smoldering ruin behind him.

Begining of a second argument

What in God's name did you do! Ian roared at the sociopath.

_**I blew Ben and Riley up. They weren't needed.**_

You bloody son of a bitch!

_**Ha. They would have stopped you from getting the money for Martha.**_

You committed cold-blooded murder with my body!

_**Your body fits me like a glove. It performed very nicely, Ian.**_

You had better find a way to tell the authorities this and make it all your fault. I didn't want to commit cold-blooded murder, you bloody monster!

**_So what if I'm as cold-blooded as a lizard? It's your own fault._**

How do you see that, Sociopath?

_**You created me. With your love for Martha, you gave me life.**_

I did not create you. You are a twisted malformation of my want for the treasure. I would never do what you do.

_**So? I'm part of your personality, Ian. If I feel as if you will stop me from doing what I feel necessary, then I will block you from our mind, like I did before.**_

You... you... there are no words for your madness.

_**No curse in Entish, Elvish, or the tongues of Men for what I have done? My, my, you're sounding like Treebeard now!**_

Do you always sound like a cross between Sauron and Saruman!

_**Put it that way, will you? Well, now you are going to go back to America, and we will steal the Declaration of Independence.**_

Are you always like the Dark Side of Smeagol!

_**Go to sleep. I'll take over.**_

I'll stay awake, thank you very much.

_**Okay then, stay awake and brood over the death of Benjamin Franklin Gates.**_

Could Ben have survived?

_**No. End of discussion.**_

Bastard.

_**I know.**_

End of Argument #2

* * *

For the next few days, Ian was a side presence in the Sociopath's mind. He watched as the evil personality put all of Ian's recourses to work, and found a way to steal the document. The Chandlers and Martha called quite a few times, but the Sociopath let Ian take over then, threatening him with taking him over and doing something unspeakable to the family or even the president.

* * *

The day of the theft came. The sociopath, taking Ian over, crawled through the tunnels, killed a guard, and used his fingerprint to get in. Then, he ran through the hallways, and saw someone struggling with the case for the Declaration of Independence, the document inside of it. Sociopath recoiled with shock as Ian realized that it was Benjamin Gates. Then, before Ian could take over and kill his own men and get the document back in the cleaning room, the sociopath took over again, and shot at Ben. The should-have-been-dead man shielded himself with the casing, and managed to get into an elevator and shut the doors before Sociopath could attack and kill for real this time. Inside, Ian was cheering that Sociopath didn't get the document, but he was fuming that he couldn't get the map for the treasure. Grumbling to himself, he mentally sat back to watch what Sociopath would do now.

_**How in the bloody hell did he survive**! _Sociopath roared in his rage.

Don't ask me. I don't know how he did. Maybe he's the reincarnation of Beren. Beren was raised to life after he died trying to get the Silmaril for Thingol.

_**Or maybe you need to shut up.**_

You asked, Soch.

_**Soch? **_

The name's kinda cute, if you ask me.

_**Eh...eh...eh...**_

(Ian mentally cracks up.)

The Sociopath, still struggling for words, was indignantly trying to get back in control, as Ian stood there, laughing. His men looked at him as if he was from Mars. Then, he made his way back to the truck, the Sociopath wresting control from him halfway there. When a woman with whatlooked like the Declaration in her bag ran over, the Sociopath took her, took the declaration, and the woman managed to get into Ben's car.

**_Okay, let's take a look at this thing!_**

Is that a _price tag_? Oh, Ben, you're a genius.

_**He's a bloody nuisance!**_

Don't you mean a menace? Calling him a nuisance is giving him too much of a childish image.

_**Don't you ever shut up!**_

No.

_**Okay then. That's it. I give up. No more treasure hunting. No more finding Martha's cure. No more cancer research. I quit.**_

I wasn't against the treasure hunting, just against the theft and murder! Get your bloody ass back here now, or else!

_**Or else what, pretty boy?**_

I... I'll suicide. I know you can't survive without my body, so I'll suicide, if you don't help me. I can't live without Martha in any case.

_**You bloody, no-good, double-crossing bastard!**_ Sociopath roared in exasperation.

The sociopath took over again, and drove to Ben's father's house, where he found the man duck taped to a chair, and grumbling.

* * *

The days passed with agonizing slowness as Ian and the Sociopath worked together to find the treasure. Finally, the waiting paid off when Abigail, Ben's girlfriend, called to say that they would give him the treasure if he helped them find it. He knew it was a trick, but he was going to pull out all of the stops right now to find the gold and hand it over to the American Cancer Society.

Finally, he made his way to the Trinity Church, where he found the tomb and hammered it in. He was passed recoiling when the coffin was dragged out, and he was about to force Ben to go in when he heard a cry from the top of the stairs.

"Ian!" A woman was flying down them, her black wig streaking behind her. Her face was hollow and pale, her eyes sunken. Her clothes hung to her like rags, and she had used makeup heavily to keep at least a semblance of life and not like a walking corpse. She ran into his arms, and kissed him soundly. "They gave me six months at the outside. They couldn't do anything more," she said gravely.

* * *

_**

* * *

Celebwen Telcontar: Okay, that was the second to the last chapter. I hope you liked it.**_

_**Balrog: What did she mean, six months at the outside?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: She has six months to live. No more, but probably less.**_

**_Balrog: You're kidding, right? You deal in _happy_ endings, not depressing ones!_**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I believe in the ancient Greek practice of purging your soul of impurities by completely allowing your emotions to take over, and either crying or laughing yourself to where you can hardly breathe. It feels good to do, and I believe this next chapter is one of those.**_

_**Balrog: What? Some kind of homeopathy? **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Just read. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This is the last chapter. I hope you like it. It was very painful to write, since I usually deal in happy endings. I own nothing save Martha and the Chandlers.

* * *

**_

Ian crushed her against his chest, feeling completely hopeless.

"Before He takes me into His eternal kingdom to be with Him, I want to have an adventure, at least. The only adventure I've had was the foreign exchange year, and falling in love with you.

"This looks to be rather exciting," she said, eyeing the tunnel. She grinned at him, her teeth white against her dying face. Her eyes, once so full of life they seemed to bubble over, barely held a spark. Ben looked horrified at her.

"She's dying," he whispered. Ian glared daggers at him, stroking her wig.

"Well, who goes down the dark scary tunnel first?" Riley asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"You four" Ian said to Ben, Abigail, Riley and Ben's father. They sluggishly squirmed through the hole, followed by Ian's men, Martha, and Ian himself. Martha sneezed on the other side, and Ian looked horrified.

"It's a sneeze, nothing more!" she laughed. Ben looked concerned to say the least, and Abigail gently touched Martha's arm. "I'm fine!" she said, exasperated.

"Except that you're dying," Ian whispered, holding her close.

"Somebody got a lighter? Or a match?" Riley asked, holding up a cold torch. One of Ian's men tossed him a lighter, and the passage was flooded with flickering torchlight. The flames seemed to catch Martha's face and make her look even less alive and more like a walking corpse.

* * *

Ben led the way down the tunnel, holding the torch aloft. Martha felt safe and secure with Ian's arm over her shoulders. Then the place was filled with light as Ben lit a large chandelier and they began the trek down the stairs. 

As they went lower, the air made Martha's heart labor, and she became even paler. When one of Ian's men fell off the stair and into the darkness, Martha jumped, and her heart gave a painful spasm. Her left arm hurt like she had been shot, then it went cold and numb.

"Martha?" Ian asked.

"I'm… fine," she managed.

"Look at the elevator," Abigail called.

"It's in dumbwaiter style," Ben answered. Suddenly, the stairs began to creak. Ian gripped Martha in his arms; fireman's carry, and leapt onto the elevator. Martha's heart gave another spasm, and Ian helped the others on.

* * *

"When they reached a landing, Ben's father found an eye etched into the wall. He pushed it, and a wall slid back, Martha was still on the elevator, so the blast of stale air didn't affect her all that much. They went in, and Ben cursed at the empty room. 

"It's much… too small… for such… a big… treasure. There … has to… be… another… room…" Martha gasped.

"Could it really be that simple?" Ben asked, facing a wall. He drew out an ivory pipe, disassembled it, and inserted it into the wall.

The door opened, and they filed into another room. Martha bent, the air being too much.

"To everything… There is a season…" she gasped, sliding to the floor. Her heart gave a third and final spasm. "Love… you… Ian…" she managed, and then her eyes grew glassy and sightless.

* * *

Ben felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. His father knelt and felt for a pulse, then closed Martha's eyes. He looked at Ian, and shook his head. 

"Gates," Ian said his voice filled with disbelief. "I need you to promise me something."

"Yes?" Ben said; his mind overwhelmed with the shock of having a woman die in front of his eyes from the stale air and her illness.

"Promise me that whatever you may get from the treasure goes to the American Cancer Society. The first family that should receive money from this is the Chandler family, Mr. and Mrs. Zechariahs Chandler. Promise me!" Ian said. Ben nodded.

"It will be done."

"Burry Martha and myself on a plot of land, in a small valley, underneath an oak tree. It's what Martha wanted." Ben nodded, not comprehending what was happening. Then, before his men could react, he grabbed a pistol from one of the cronies and put it to his temple, and pulled the trigger.

_

* * *

_

**_You would have given your life for this woman… _aPresence whispered in his brain. The words were made of pure meaning, no specific language. They wereencompassed simply by the feelings,smells, memories, senses.Ian nodded. Or at least he thought he did. He didn't have a body to nod with, though. **

**I would, Ian thought in reply, as he couldn't speak.**

**_So you haveearned yourreward. All eternity is not a lengthily time, not with My Son, the woman you love, and Myself,_ the Presence said. Ian felt joy envelop him as a familiar soul came near him; and when he saw what they 'looked' like together, he 'smiled.' They fit like two pieces of a puzzle, the only two pieces. He 'nodded' and took Martha's soul into his 'arms,' and 'smiled' at the Presence.**

**

* * *

**

The day was bright and sunny, contrasting the feelings of despair and hopelessness that everyone felt. Elizabeth Chandler stood at the podium, describing how her son-in-law would have wanted the treasure to be used.

"And in this 5-K run/walk, even more money will be raised for cancer patients," she finished, and looked out at all the survivors rallied in running clothes. Ben, Riley, and Abigail were also participating in the run/walk, as were all the remaining Chandlers. Abigail was sitting down, holding her small son in his carrier, the straps like a backpack cris-crossing her back.

"Hush, settle down there, Ian. Don't worry. We'll be at the end of the race in no time."

"You know, Abigail, they're trying out a new intravenous medication, it has high hopes of success. We paid for that with the treasure."

"I hope this is the last generation to get cancer."

"Probably not, but you never know. How's Martha?"

"She just kicked." Abigail smiled at her husband as people cheered and the event began.

* * *

_In later years, the new drug, commonly called _Freemason_ after the Free Masons who kept the tradition of the treasure alive, would save thousands of lives. It was the most successful cancer-fighting drug ever developed, and was a revolutionary discovery in the world of medication. Ian and Martha Gates, the children of Abigail and Benjamin Gates, would be known as the two people responsible for many records in the medical field, and Ian and Martha Howe were put down as the two people who made it possible for the drug called _Freemason_ to be found.

* * *

_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Yes, I did cry when writing this final chapter. I won't be doing a sequel, since this was about Ian and Martha, and both of them are now gone. Please review and tell me what you thought, even if you yell at me for killing off both Martha and Ian. **_

_**Balrog: Oh, poor Ian, poor Martha! (Tears hiss in the flames.)**_


End file.
